


Drunken Confidence

by Squilkey



Series: University in the City [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Party, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squilkey/pseuds/Squilkey
Summary: Stiles goes to a party to have fun, not for Derek Hale. But if he's having fun, it should probably include Derek Hale.





	Drunken Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when I can't sleep at 3am

At 9:30pm Stiles is almost fully exposed in the open streets of New York City. Luckily, he catches the bed sheet just in time, tugging it out of the hinge of the door. Okay yes, Stiles is wearing a toga, but it was a _toga_ party, the toga was basically essential. And yes, in high school Stiles had always sworn against such frat-boy things as toga parties, but going to college in the city had made him feel as if he were missing out.

Yes, that’s the reason, not because Derek had put ‘going’ on the Facebook event, definitely not for that reason.

Anyway, he’s there for as much alcohol as he pleases for only $5; and it’s like, teammate bonding or something.

So he standing in the doorway, a fashionable-hour late for this party, almost stripped naked, but his dignity stands. “Floor six,” he says to himself. Well, he sighs, it’s a walkup. But the exercise is fine, he’ll stop on floor five to catch his breath.

He rings the doorbell on the apartment to the right of the stairs. It’s only a few seconds before it opens. Some girl—Jo?—is standing behind it. “Stiles, right?” Stiles nods as she pulls him into the apartment. “You’re the first one here! I love that you dressed up.” Stiles eyes the girl up and down, she was in a toga too, that’s promising.

Wait, first one here? He’s literally an hour late, right? “First one?” He vocalises.

“Yeah everyone on the team has a thing about being late, you’ll notice more when we do weekday practices. Wanna help me carry up some beer?” Not really, but he does.

It’s not too long before the party is in full swing, Stiles misses his friends, but he easily finds people to make conversation with. He meets the twins he saw in the registration meeting, they hadn’t been to any of the weekend practises, as far as he was aware. They get along well and rope Stiles into a preliminary game of flip cup. Preliminary turns into a tournament, somehow, and Stiles is well on his way past tipsy when he finally notices Derek on the rooftop. Stiles locks eyes with him from the table and Derek immediately glances away, suddenly focused on a ping-pong ball on the floor. Okay, so it wasn’t going to be like every romantic movie Stiles had ever seen, but Derek was staring first.

It’s a little over an hour later when a fully drunk Stiles initiates, and looses, a beer-can battle with Charlie. As Charlie celebrates by knocking another beer back, Stiles makes his way over to the edge of the roof. The air is brisk and hits him hard through the thin sheet, but he embraces it.

“Can’t believe you dressed up,” a familiar voice comes from behind him.

Stiles grins, “I’m embracing my inner fuck boy, you into it?” He’s not facing Derek, but he’s willing to bet his scholarship that the man rolls his eyes. “It’s actually a disguise,” he claims, spinning around from the edge. “I’m—uh,” he falters upon seeing Derek up close, he’s in a suit. A nice suit. And it looks good, way too good. Strong fingers snap in front of his face. “I’m blending in,” he finishes.

“Can’t imagine you’d ever blend in.” Stiles cocks his head. Now, he is drunk, so it’s fair to admit that he can’t tell if that was a dig or a compliment. He opts for a grin instead.

“So..” He motions up and now Derek’s frame.

“Ah, the reason you spaced out?” Stiles frowns. “Came from a meeting close-by, no time to grab a bedsheet.”

“Would’ya ever put on a toga?”

“Maybe.” They both stand in silence, Derek sipping on a beer. Sipping. There’s commotion from the other side of the roof, a new game of beer pong is picking up.

“D’ya ever get drunk?” Stiles asks, swiping a beer from the table a few feet away.

“‘course,” he chuckled, taking another sip. Stiles chugged half his can, following.

“C’mon, chug it,” he jeered, watching Derek take another light sip.

“I’m not trying to get trashed like you, Stiles.” And that’s all it takes, his name on those lips, and Stiles is learning how hard it is to control himself after eight beers. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Derek’s voice rings out.

Stiles nods and takes another breath. “Just drunk, not thinkin’ clearly, horny, ya know.” He mentally kicked himself, hard. No, that is definitely not what he wanted to say, no no no. There’s the end of that, there go his hopes and dreams.

“Well don’t do anything stupid. I like the girls on this team,” came Derek’s reply. Stiles blinked, hard, trying to process those few words. Sure, living in his conservative town he had tried to keep things under wraps, but he was sure he screamed ‘gay’ in the city.

Another snap landed in front of his face, “Stiles.” That name again, his name. But from Derek’s lips. Stiles sets his beer down, no more.

“‘M’gay,” he blurts out, clutching back onto the beer. Did he need to announce his sexuality? No. That was not a thing sober Stiles did. But he wasn’t sober Stiles right now, and so here they are.

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, pulling the beer from Stiles’ grasp, “I like the boys on this team.” Did Derek just say he was into guys? Is that what was happening? Stiles blinked again, hoping to gain some clarity. No, Derek just likes boys as friends, right? No, Stiles didn’t like that conclusion. Another snap lands in front of his eyes. “Kinda hard to talk to you when you keep spacing out.” Derek is grinning at him, their eyes lock together.

“Sorry, maybe you should get more drunk,” Stiles said, reaching for his beer in Derek’s other hand. Derek held it back.

“I’ll get more drunk, you stay where you are.”

“I haven’t moved,” Stiles protests, pulling his arm back. He hears Derek chuckling and opens his mouth to say something, but Derek knocks the rest of the beer back before he has a chance. “Don’t drink my beer,” Stiles states. Derek raises his eyebrows, and then Stiles’ beer. Just as Stiles reaches for it, Derek downs the can. Stiles gives a whimper of protest.

“You’re the one that wanted me to get drunk,” Derek retaliates, reaching for another.

“Well it’s not fun if I jus’hav’ta watch,” Stiles grumbles, leaning against the railing of the roof. “Let’s play flip cup!” Derek rolls his eyes. “Please, please, please,” Stiles is much closer to Derek now, and his body becomes aware of it. There's a sigh, and then Derek grabs his waist, driving him toward the centre table.

“New round of rage cage!” Derek announces, beginning to flip over empty cups and fill them with beer. Stiles cocks his head and Derek leans in close, very close. “I’ll drink yours,” he whispers. And there it goes again, Stiles screws his eyes shut. If he weren’t as drunk, he could swear Derek knew what he was doing to him.

Quite a few people join in the game and, as it gets going, it’s clear Stiles’ is struggling more than most people. And, whether he was doing it on purpose or not, Derek was getting drunker. Stiles’ couldn’t stop staring at the man throughout the games. His competitive attitude for lacrosse had transcended into drinking games, and watching Derek cheer for him was all too exciting. Everything fascinated Stiles, especially when beer ran through Derek’s stubble; Stiles wanted to taste that beer more than anything.

At the end of two rounds, Stiles could confidently say Derek was drunk. And if Derek didn’t notice Stiles taking a few shots out of someone’s Vodka bottle, who’s to say it actually happened.

They ended up back where their conversation had first picked up. Derek’s mannerisms were a lot sloppier, and so was his posture. He was touching Stiles. A lot. His shoulder, his arm, his hand, Stiles’ heart was at risk.

To say Stiles remembered any of the conversation a minute before the next is, well, confusing. He was definitely aware of what Derek just said, and he’s sure he responded appropriately, but his brain wasn’t in it. His brain was somewhere else: his lips did the talking, his heart controlled his reactions, his dick did…well it’s dark enough to ignore that. What he does remember, however, is the time. He didn’t have his phone, no, and he didn’t own a watch, he was clutched onto Derek’s wrist, studying the small hands inside the Rolex strapped to his left arm.

“It’s two in the morning,” he mumbled, blinking hard. Okay, there’s a little clarity…he thinks.

He feels Derek’s arm slip from his hands. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing around. The party had cleared out substantially, only a dozen people or so remaining. “D’ya wanna get going?” Stiles looked at Derek, hard. An answer, he thought. An answer is something I should give to Derek. I should give something to Derek...I want to give something to Derek, he thought. No, that wasn't where this was going.

“Yes,” he responded; confidently, might he add.

Six floor walk up: Bad when arriving to a party, ten times worse when attempting to leave one. Now Stiles knew he was drunk, but he didn’t really know he was _drunk_ until he attempted those stairs. But, maybe it was a blessing, because the result was Derek holding onto his waist down five and a half flights. Before he knew it, they were stopped in front of a familiar door on the streets of Manhattan.

A snap in front of his face. “Stiles? Can you get home from here?”

“Yeah, yeah definitely,” Stiles mumbles, “Grid system and all that.” He grins at Derek, who doesn’t look as confident. He stares at Derek for an extended moment of time. Are things going well? “Derek,” Stiles begins, unsure of where this is going. “Can I use your bathroom?” Okay, sure.

Derek chuckles, god that chuckle, “Of course.” But, of course, Derek is a fourth floor walkup. Well, Derek just has to hold onto Stiles’ waist for one last time.

He gets into the bathroom, step one. Now what? He looks in the mirror. No good, he thinks, and splashes his face with water. And? He slips down the wall closest to him, maybe he’ll just stay here. The bathroom is cool, and quiet, and dim. Minutes pass and he hears that voice accompanied by his name, that beautiful voice. He closes his eyes, he’d just like to listen. There it is again, as if on repeat. How can anyone make his name sound so...enticing? No, that's not the right word...He settles with 'good'. Now there's a knock off in the distance, his name repeated, that voice, closer. His eyes stay shut, taking in this moment, a moment on the bathroom floor of his...crush?

But now he’s being touched, if he could melt into it he would. But he can’t, so he opts to take it in visually. Derek is crouched above him…in a sweater. A sweater that's a deep blue, complimenting his eyes in a lazy way. Stiles enjoys sweaters, especially on Derek Hale. A sweater. A sweater is the only thing he can think.

“Yes,” he hears, “A sweater,” I don’t live in suits and athletic wear, believe it or not.” Stiles laughs and is immediately hushed. “Can we leave the bathroom?” 

Stiles pulls his head up and drops it down. And, before he can push his hands to the ground for a boost up, he’s lifted from his place.

Derek is lifting him, Derek Hale is holding him in his arms. Bridal style, as if they had just been married. Is this what bliss feels like? He feels himself float down, landing on a cloud. A cloud? No, it’s just a bed…Derek’s bed. So a cloud, he decides. He hears another chuckle from Derek.

“Okay, how much is staying in my head and how much is out loud?”

“Well I’m not sure how much you think, but I’d say you’re speaking quite a lot,” Derek replies quietly, pulling a blanket over Stiles.

“I’m sleeping here?” He asks.

“You’re sleeping here,” Derek responds.

Stiles smiles, feeling himself drift off and the last thing he swears he remembers is a kiss on the forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably going to be a part of a larger fic in which Stiles and the gang all meet in college and times ensue, including the meeting and dating of Derek Hale. Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!


End file.
